


pull the blackout curtains down

by sungyeowl



Series: lost in today and the past; lost in the future we had [3]
Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: M/M, Tumblr Prompt, happens in the glade yay, supposed to be read separately from other parts of this series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 01:26:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3362663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sungyeowl/pseuds/sungyeowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><br/>They probably look so pathetic right now – two tall, pretty much adult guys, frazzled and radiating exhaustion, sitting huddled in the corner where two walls of the Maze connect; Thomas would probably laugh – if it didn’t require so much effort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	pull the blackout curtains down

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr prompts: 36. that hurt and 46. fever : D  
> i am currently without a proper internet connection, posting from my phphone, so sorry for formatting mistakes if there happen to be any!

“That’s some klunk, oh my god.”

“It is, isn’t it,” shaking his head, Thomas agrees, wincing instantly, as the searing pain ripples his forehead in a tired frown. He’s got an itch in his lower back and he would, really, just gladly scratch it, but moving even an inch seems like a faraway and impossible task now.

So he just shifts slightly, hoping for the wall to do the trick for him (it doesn’t work).

“Neeeeewt,” he whines – a bit childishly if he’s to be honest with himself – but doesn’t turn towards the older boy, not risking increasing his pounding headache. “Neeeewt…”

There’s a sound of shuffling and Newt appears in front of him, sliding over to him on his butt.

“What?” he asks, propping is forearms on Thomas’ pulled-up knees. His hair is mussed, dark rings under his eyes – and they stand out, too, because Newt’s unnaturally pale, probably thaks to the blood-loss.

They probably look so pathetic right now – two tall, pretty much adult guys, frazzled and radiating exhaustion, sitting huddled in the corner of where two walls of the Maze connect; Thomas would probably laugh – if it didn’t require so much effort.

“My back is itchy,” Thomas says grudgingly, letting his head fall back against the wall (a little too harshly). “Can you do something about it?”

“Not really,” Newt snorts, obviously not intending to actually ‘do something about it’. “Ya’re all on your own, buddy.”

“Shuck. You sure?”

“You’ve got a flu, Tommy. Not a death sentence hanging over your head or nothin’,” Newt’s eyebrows are raised now in a sneer, and Thomas swears to god – if he didn’t feel so deflated right now he would make it his number one priority to wipe the (small, but still there) smirk off of the blonde’s face (probably with his own mouth, too, and a not-so-considerate amount of groping which Newt pretends to hate). “So stop whining.”

Thomas is ready to snap back, but Newt lifts his hand and reaches over to check if Thomas is still feverish – which he is.

“I’m not the one who screamed so loud that the Grivers prolly klunked their pants in fear,” he says eventually, giving Newt’s hand a little nudge with his forehead.

“Everyone would scream if they had their foot almost split in half,” Newt only shrugs; it’s dark, but Thomas sure he can see the slightest tint of blush gracing his cheeks. “That hurt.”

“Newt,” Thomas says slowly, trying to sound in a way he thinks someone speaking to a dense child would sound like. “You pierced your foot with a shucking shovel. Whose fault is that?”

“Yours, obviously,” Newt grits out, his mouth set into a thin line now – but he’s obviously flustered and that’s what tells Thomas that he has won.

“And how exactly is that my fault?” he asks, the shit-eating grin already blossoming on his face.

“No one told you to go around flexing when I had to do my job, okay,” Newt huffs angrily, his eyes darting away from Thomas. “All sweaty and exercising. Who does that?”

Thomas doesn’t reply but bursts out laughing instead. His throat feels as if he were on fire and soon enough he’s out of breath, chest aching and head pounding with dull pain. But Newt’s embarrassment is priceless, so it’s all worth it.


End file.
